


Rich Bitch

by Bitch_In_The_Blue



Series: Drabbles, One Shots, Outtakes, and AUs [5]
Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V, Grand Theft Auto: Vice City
Genre: Fame, Infamy, Interviews, Mention of dead characters, One-Sided Attraction, Party, elitism, pre-doomsday Avon, rich people being rich people, spoilers for other fics in series, tommie being savage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 11:42:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14831630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitch_In_The_Blue/pseuds/Bitch_In_The_Blue
Summary: Tommie Vercetti, being a new, growing influence in Los Santos is invited to a party for the elites of San Andreas- and is asked to be interviewed alongside billionaire Avon Hertz for a magazine article.





	Rich Bitch

June, 2017.  
  
“Any relation to Tommy Vercetti, the infamous Harwood Butcher who murdered eleven men in 1971?”  
“No comment,” Tommie replied leaning away from the microphone that was shoved up near her face. _Fuckin’ paparazzi_.  
This is what being a celebrity must have felt like- because now that she was outed as a young upstart with millions in her account, had a hyper-successful strip club in her ownership, and carried the infamous Vercetti name, everyone seemed to want an exclusive with her. She gained attention quickly just for revitalizing the Vanilla Unicorn so quickly and effectively.  
  
The VIP party at the Richman Mansion was packed full of people like herself. Or at least people with bank accounts like hers.  
Tommie felt like she stuck out like a sore thumb- she was possibly the only woman in her twenties there who wasn't hanging off of a rich older man’s arm like a party favor.  
She wished someone could’ve come with her. Blake was busy. Lita and Michael were busy. Franklin and Tracey were busy. Even Lamar was busy.  
She had little choice but to come alone.  
Not much for fancy parties, Tommie hadn't been sure of how to dress for the occasion.  
So she wore… Whatever the fuck she felt like wearing. Which ended up being a tasteful dress, a long cardigan, and a pair of comfortable heels. All black. Something you could wear to an office but still look trendy. Plain compared to how others dressed in clubwear or extravagant dresses or even nice pantsuits for the party. But at least without any cleavage, nobody bothered her with false compliments or stares at her boobs.  
The only reason she even came was for an interview. She was to be featured on the cover of Stars Talk Magazine along with some tech billionaire she had only heard of maybe once or twice- a Mr. Avon Hertz.  
She only had one condition for the interview: _Don’t ask about her father._  
Pussycat Magazine also showed interest in her. Her negotiation terms were the same-- but with the additional demand to be fully clothed in her photos and not be asked about her sex life. It was a porno mag- which featured Candy Suxxx on the cover once or twice. That interview was next week. She wasn't exactly excited.  
She kept near the open bar- occasionally ordering drinks and watching people make fools of themselves when they'd had a few too many. People jumping in the pool fully clothed, gathering around hookah, trying to discretely snort cocaine, couples practically dry-humping. Typical rich people party in her opinion… Fucking reminded her of high school. She even hummed along to the 3OH!3 song she’d liked since she was in high school, blaring through the massive sound system.  
“Tommie Vercetti?” She looked to her side to see an older woman addressing her. “I'm Carly Weatherly, we spoke on the phone,”  
“Mrs. Weatherly,” Tommie greeted with a polite smile, shifting her martini glass into her left hand to shake the woman's hand. “Nice to finally meet you, hope I wasn't too hard to find in all of this chaos.”  
“Not at all, Hun,” she replied. “You can call me Carly, by the way. If you're not too busy, I'd like to find a quiet place to do your interview with Mr. Hertz now?”  
“Yeah, I'm ready whenever you are,” Tommie nodded, relieved that she hadn't had much to drink so far. Hopefully she wouldn't embarrass herself during the interview for the first and only non-pornographic magazine that was interested in her.  
The sooner this was all done, the sooner she could go home and put on some fucking pants. She followed Mrs. Weatherly into the mansion, where they found a quiet office space for the interview.  
Avon Hertz already in the room, standing in front of a ceiling-high bookshelf and examining the titles.  
"I'll be right back," Carly said. "You two get comfortable, I'm gonna go find our photographer."  
“Are we even _allowed_ to be in here?” Tommie wondered aloud after Carly left, glancing around the room. It was as lavish as the rest of the home- high ceilings, tall bookshelves packed full of assorted volumes on every wall, and a heavy desk in the center. It reminded her of her father's private office- albeit upgraded for the current year.  
Avon seemed to think her question was funny. “Who’s gonna keep us out?” He asked. “We’re not like other people. We're here because we're the _Elites_ of Los Santos. We can do anything we want.”  
She instantly got bad vibes off of him. “If you say so,” she replied flatly. “You must be Avon Hertz. Tommie Vercetti… Nice to meet you.” The formality was forced out of her mouth at the last second. Politeness might open up a business opportunity. The guy was a billionaire. She could always use an investor with that kind of cash.  
"The pleasure's all mine, Mrs. Vercetti," he replied, leaving his spot to come stand a little too close to her. He took her hand- seeming to check for a wedding ring- and kissed the back of her hand when he didn't find so much as an engagement ring. "And you are just _stunning_ . I wasn't sure what to expect when I heard I'd be interviewed with the youngest millionaire in Los Santos-- well, definitely not someone _this_ young and lovely…" He noticed the sleeves of her cardigan ending below her elbows- where her ink was proudly on display. "Or the tattoos. Definitely didn’t expect the tattoos."  
_Creep_. She felt like she needed to wash him off her hand after it touched his mouth.  
"Thank you," she replied, admittedly a little flustered at the excessive flattery. Her smile was one of discomfort- but she pulled it off as being polite and happy to be there. "But- I'm not married- Mr. Vercetti was my father."  
"I heard about his passing," Avon replied. "Everyone in America did. Were you close?" The headline of the King of Vice City having died was on every newspaper in America. Tommie had saved one for Lita. And Lita kept it near his urn.  
"We never met," Tommie lied. Anything to avoid being questioned about whether or not she knew about how he made his money. "But thank you."  
The door opened, and Carly re-entered with a young man carrying an expensive camera. “Ready?” She asked, seeming to be excited to begin.  
  
Tommie and Avon had been photographed first. Shaking hands, standing back-to-back or side-by-side, Avon sitting behind the desk and Tommie perched on the edge. Then individual shots of each of them.  
Hopefully the ones used in the article would be flattering.  
After the photography was done, the two ‘elites’ pulled up chairs and Carly began the interview. She began with Avon. Questions about how he made his fortune, what he’s done since then, what he’s been working on now-- which turned out to be an AI neural network he called Clifford; going so far as to carry the coding on a thumb drive around his neck. He even had the program override the OS on his iFruit phone.  
“You can talk to him if you’d like,” Avon said, producing his phone from his pocket. “Say hello, Clifford.”  
The purple and blue circle in the center of his screen moved when sound was produced. _“Hello Clifford.”_ __  
Carly and Tommie offered polite laughter in reply. Though Tommie was… less than impressed. She doubted it was actually even an AI. Even then AI was barely a good idea- these things never did end well in movies.  
“He’s not used to being on a small device like this,” Avon said, seeming to angle his phone so that the front camera could capture the two women. “It’s got him a little snippy.”  
_“I am not being snippy, Avon. I am nervous to be interviewed. I did not prepare any answers.”_  
“Well, you didn’t really need to have anything prepared,” Carly said, seeming unsure of whether or not to address Avon or the phone. “It’s more of an on the spot Q &A.”  
_“Go on. Ask me a question.”_ __  
Tommie thought it was odd that the ‘AI’ had spoken with strong enunciation. Didn’t quite sound fluid like she assumed an AI would speak. “Do you work _for_ or _with_ Mr. Hertz?” she asked.  
_“Avon is like a father to me,”_ Clifford said. _“We are a team._ ”  
Carly seemed pleased with the response, though it barely answered Tommie's question. Carly was visibly impressed with the AI. “Well, now that you’re _both_ in on the interview, I have a question for you. What’s next?”  
_“Avon and I are working on a big project.”_ Clifford said. _“We are-”_ __  
“Clifford, mute please.” The circle on the screen stabilized, Clifford’s voice silencing. Avon moved his phone to the pocket of his blazer. “Our future works are very confidential. We believe it’s the next step toward the evolution of mankind, so I’m sure you can understand that it’s _very_ important to keep it on the DL during the planning phase.”  
Carly nodded her understanding. “Oh, absolutely. I completely understand. Well- that sums up the questions I had prepared for you. Tommie, are you ready for your portion?”  
Finally. As soon as this shit was done, she would go home and go to bed. Blake was probably already asleep by then. No chance of getting lucky tonight. “Ready when you are,” she politely answered, leaning back in her seat comfortably.  
She noticed Avon stealing a glance at her legs when she crossed them.  
It took real effort to not glare at him for it.  
“Alright!” Carly said, clearing her throat. “We'll start with something easy. Tell me a little about yourself.”  
Tommie hated when people asked for that- it reminded her of the first day of school, every year. And she never knew what to say. “Weeeeeell,” she began. “I was born and raised in San Andreas by my mom, Lita, and her friends who helped her when she came here, pregnant and recently single. So ever since then they’ve been like my aunts and uncles. I pursued a degree in science for a long time- graduated from ULSA in 2012, and went on to VCU to pursue the next level. I wanted to be a marine biologist,” she didn’t want to mention the mixup with Tommy. “But after a family member passed away, he left everything to me. After that, I dropped out of college, came home,” she wouldn’t mention Trevor either. “And purchased the Vanilla Unicorn- which, as many know, is the _only_ exotic club in Los Santos to maintain any sort of quality in service. So after it became mine, I cleaned it up. The previous owner was...” Trevor had forgotten to pay the strippers more than once… And fucked some of them. “Not very attentive to the needs of the business.”  
“So you quit pursuing a career in science to become a smut peddler?” Avon winced, seeming to re-analyze her by appearance.  
“I quit having childish ideations so I could make some _real_ money,” Tommie replied flatly. “The Unicorn is booming now that I’m in the captain’s chair.”  
“What was the previous owner like that the club improved so much under your care?” Carly wondered.  
“He was interesting, to say the least,” she answered. “He wasn’t good with owning a business, but he was a good person-- at least he was to _me_ . We were really close.”  
“ _Romantically?_ ” Carly winked.  
“Well... Yeah. But that was before I even considered making the Unicorn mine.”  
“Are you together now, or…?”  
“No,” Tommie shook her head. “That’s over and done-- these days I live with my boyfriend Blake.”  
The rest of the interview wouldn’t weigh as heavy in her chest.  
What age was she when she got her money? Twenty two. What could she accredit the success of the club to? Honestly? Her drive to make money. What were her future plans? Expanding her business, and maybe purchasing more properties to manage. Was there anyone in particular who inspired her to make her fortune grow? Her family and friends, especially her mother. As well as Trevor- who she only referred to as ‘a friend who passed away’. Why the tattoos? She was a firm believer in ‘my body, my choices’. What’s it like to be considered a powerful person in Los Santos? A privilege reserved for few, and one that she would take full advantage of in hopes of making something great. Any specific thoughts on being a young, female entrepreneur of color? She hoped that she would inspire other young women, regardless of race or age or background, to ruthlessly pursue their goals and that everything else in life would fall into place afterward.  
She wanted to drive home _that_ point in particular. She felt that many people wanted to limit what young women, especially women of color, could accomplish. That there was no shame in doing what was in their best interests- even if people were to disagree with them.  
Carly seemed happy with her answers- while Avon seemed to not even bother to engage in the rest of the interview now that it wasn’t about himself.  
The article would be in the next month’s issue, and hopefully it would feature her as a businesswoman and not as a ‘lazy millennial who just got lucky’, as she’d heard some people say about her.  
Tommie let out a tired sigh once Carly and her photographer left the room. She stood up out of her chair, smoothed down her dress, and went to follow them out.  
“Actually, Ms. Vercetti, would you mind sticking around for a minute?” Avon’s voice froze her in her spot and she turned to him.  
“Uh, sure,” she shrugged.  
“I was hoping to have a one-on-one with you before all this was over,” he said. “Wanna go outside and grab something to drink?”  
If Avon Hertz was interested in speaking to her, she hoped it meant that he had a business opportunity for her. “Sure.”  
  
Back outside, Tommie and Avon stood where she’d previously been at the bar.  
Of course, he talked about himself. Which she managed to drown out by listening to the Jessie J. song blasting through the sound system and nodding politely from time to time.  
And he went on about Clifford. Going as far as having Tommie talk to it for a minute or so.  
_“Avon, I am beginning to think that you are only introducing me to this woman so you can attempt copulation-”_  
“That’s enough for now, Clifford.” Avon silenced the AI before it could say anything further, sliding his phone into his back pocket and offering a sheepish smile to the young woman.  
Tommie, having her suspicions confirmed by the AI, only glowered at Avon. He wasn’t planning on investing, just trying to fuck. “ _'_ _Copulation’, huh?_ ”  
“He likes to fool around,” Avon placated. “He thinks it’s funny to get me into trouble sometimes. Uh- anyway,” he took a sip of his martini and thought it wise to turn the conversation away from himself.  
The thought of Trevor Philips punching Avon Hertz full-force in the face for wasting her time and/or hitting on her brought her some comfort. Trevor was a millionaire too back around the time they’d met... He wasn’t like _these_ assholes. One of a fucking kind.  
"How old are you exactly?"  
He hadn’t listened to her answers at all- she had already told Carly her age during the interview. "I’ll be twenty four in September."  
"I made my first million at twenty one and three quarters," he replied. _So... Twenty two?_ "I suppose the close comparison is why we were interviewed together. You see, I'm a visionary. A forward thinker. And if you're on the same path-"  
"Mr. Hertz," she interrupted. "You're giving me a keynote speech. I’m one person, not an audience." And the need to one-up him before she left was strong. And she was just petty enough to do it. "And, um- I was twenty two when I got _fifty_ mil... Oh, sorry, twenty two _and a quarter_ ." The look of dismay in his face was fucking priceless. "Since we're being specific."  
She set her barely touched drink onto the glassy surface of the bar counter. “You might wanna look into making sex robots instead of AI, because that’s the only way I can ever see _you_ getting to ‘copulate’.” To add insult to injury, she flipped him the bird before turning to go home. Leaving Avon stunned into silence. "Have a nice rest of your night."  
Rich people were terrible.  
And now she was one of them.  
  
Memo to self: Stay fucking humble.

**Author's Note:**

> Avon is just the worst, I love him.


End file.
